


In the Throne Room

by jarethsdragon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, No Plot, Porn, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: A brief drabble about our favorite prince of Asgard when he has an itch to scratch.  There is no plot, this is just porn.  NSFW





	In the Throne Room

Loki listened intently in the dark hallway. In the ballroom ahead, there was a soft song echoing against the marble lined walls. His quarry was nearby and every nerve quivered in delight. In the reflection of a tall, gilded mirror he saw her.

Unlike most of Asgard, this little maid was a pocket sized beauty. Her hair was unfashionably dark—the color of cinnamon—and her skin was the color of caramel. Her eyes were arresting—an almost exact match of his own emerald green. She did not boast extreme curves—the outrageous bust and narrow waist—but instead simply generous ones. She had no family, and so worked as a common maid in the palace. Even now she was mopping the grand ballroom rather than any other possible chore that might take her outside in the glorious afternoon. Yet, unlike any other maid she was not simply slinging the stringy mop across the floor—she was dancing with it. She spun and danced, occasionally bursting into some merry song.

He watched her with silent amusement a little while longer. The room was beneath glorious skylights, making it seem almost to glow with golden sunlight against the pale cream marble and gold fittings. His little sparrow was turning her partner for one last spin on the steps. Every surface was spotless. Even the head of the servants—a dour faced woman who looked like she had never smiled a day in her life, was content with this one.

“Does not run around. Doesn't chase after the guards. Doesn't do nothing but her job and then cleans up after herself. Don't have to worry about her gossiping or anything,” she had told him. “No family and no followers. No one would miss her, poor chick.” He tipped her generously to “forget” his interest in her. Only, the coin that he flipped her was enchanted—to forget the very woman she had just been speaking of and say that she had decided on employment elsewhere and then take herself there.

“Come and ride. Ride with me  
To the land of the valkyrie.  
Come and ride. Ride with me  
To a place where we are free.”

The woman sang and ended with a deep, curtsey flourish to her string headed companion. Smiling, she chuckled. “Why, Prince Loki, you dance divinely,” she giggled at the mop.

Loki stepped into the light. “I do, but I think that you will find me more intriguing than your current companion,” he smirked. He gestured grandly. “Now, gather your things and come with me to the throne room. There has been a dreadful mess.”

She hurriedly gathered her bucket and her mop, tucking her rags into her deep pockets in her apron. “My prince. I...I am sorry. I had thought myself alone and--” Of course, with her luck it had to be Loki watching her pretend and do her chores. Fregga might be annoyed and might scold. Odin would sniff and his single eye would glare. Thor would not even glance her way and Sif—who was always at his elbow—would hiss that she needed to be about her chores. No—not anyone like that. It just had to be Loki—the Dark Prince.

The trip to the throne room was swiftly accomplished, but when she stepped inside, there was no one. Not even the guards that customarily stood in the nooks and alcoves were there. With a sigh, she entered, setting her load carefully on a long wooden table. Taking a rag, she looked for the mess to be cleaned up. Perhaps it was nothing more evil than a spilled drinking horn—or Volstagg's usual explosion of crumbs and spills.  
Loki was standing at the dais of the throne, looking at her curiously. He smiled darkly and waved his gloved hand. The doors slammed shut.

“My...prince?” she said with pale-faced shock.

“Up here,” he snapped at her, pleased to see her gingerly come forward, equal to him. She kept glancing around for the mess she was to clean. With a confident step, he stood at the throne of Odin and then sat down. The heavily tooled leather was soft and pliant and barely made a sound at his weight as he glared down at the girl.

“You already know my name,” he began, looking at her over his folded hands. “So what is yours?”

“I am Mara, Your Highness,” she said, curtseying.

“Mara,” he purred, watching her cheeks flush crimson. “We are quite alone in here. And we are going to play a little game.”

“Your Highness?” she croaked out.

He sat back with a satisfied sigh, sprawling comfortably in the throne meant to hold someone much larger than he. He did not miss as Mara sent a tiny glance his way before bowing her head. “Mara—what would you do for me?”

Her hands wrung the rag. “Anything you commanded,” she said, as though by rote.

He smiled widely at her. “Undress.” She looked up at him in shock and he laughed softly. “You heard me—undress.”

Mara stammered softly, and began backing up. Loki took a piece of thin golden chain—much like a fragment of a broken necklace and studied it carefully. “Stop there!” She stopped, watching him and then his hands as he draped the chain around two fingers. Some small whit of chain lay across his palm and he whispered ever so softly to it. Then he flung it at her. Mara raised her hand to cover her face and was surprised when she felt cold—around her ankles. The chain now circled her ankles with a stretch that had magically been sunk into the floor—right at the base of the throne.

Loki watched with amusement as she pulled at the chain. It was futile—a new spell he had finally mastered—and it did seem to do the job. She was entirely at his mercy. But she was sharp enough to finally throw down the chain and shoot a glare at him. “Undress!” he barked.

The dingy gray dress slid off without further protest. As he had expected, she had generous curves. He could even see the faint outline of her nipples through the thin under-dress that covered her from the first gentle curve of her breast to her elbow to her knees. He smiled at her. “That too.” When she didn't immediately obey, he made another gesture and the chain began to coil so that she was drawn closer to him. “When I give an order, it should be obeyed.”

The chain stopped pulling briefly and she scrambled out of the under-dress. Panting, she tried to cross her arms over her chest and belly in modesty.

Loki sprawled back in the chair in satisfaction. The girl was lovely with clear skin and shiny red-brown hair. Her nipples puckered in the cooler air—a lovely shade of peach that darkened into a deeper rose. She flushed all the way down to her lovely breasts. He conjured a stiff length of leather. Flinging it hard, it cracked beside her and she jumped forward. He laughed softly. “Kneel before your prince,” he ordered.

Stiffly she knelt before him. He stroked the leather idly as he arranged her in the position that he desired—on her knees with them splayed out openly, her hands grasping her ankles which pushed her breasts out, and her head bowed. He stood, gently trailing the leather around her shoulders and across the bottom of her feet.

“Little one,” he smiled. “I do not like your hair bound. Release it.”

Tentatively, she released her ankles and unbraided her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders. Loki walked around her, drawing it slowly to her back and petting it gently. For a moment, she sighed softly, closing her eyes in pleasure. He stood in front of her again, pushing an errant lock off of her cheek and behind her ear.

Her head swam with the smell of him—the leather and soft fabric of his clothes, some slight smell of herbs or plants on his hands, the harsher smell of the leather belt and whatever made up his own unique scent. His hands were gentle—almost fatherly—as they brushed her hair back from her face and gathered it up behind her.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered softly.

Instantly her eyes flew open and she was face-to-crotch with him. She bucked backward, surprised at the bulge that almost brushed her nose, but he had her hair in one fist. He cracked the belt beside her again. “Now,” he said breathlessly. “Let us talk.”

She nodded again, amazed by the bulge that seemed to be growing right in front of her. His eyes widened in amusement. “Breathe, pet. Save your breathless awe for what is to come.”

She could not even nod. Her throat was dry and she looked at him—he seemed a giant from her vantage point. She took in a deep breath.

“Now pet, you are going to do exactly as I say, exactly as I say it,” he said amiably. “And then I will reward you for entertaining me.”

“Y-y-yes,” she whispered. His hand cracked across her cheek and she would have reeled back had he not held her head so tightly.

“That is my first rule—you are to address me properly,” he smiled. “I am generous and you may choose between 'My Lord', 'My Prince', 'My King' or...my personal favorite, 'My Master'.”

“Yes, my master,” she whispered softly.

“Good girl,” he smiled. He gently brushed her hair back again. “See how easy I am to please?”

“Yes, my master.”

He sauntered back to lazily sit on the immense throne.

“Now...come to the throne,” he said, dropping her hair.

“Th-th-the throne?!” she gasped.

“Did I stutter?” he barked. She flinched and began to rise. “Oh no, pet. Ladies and citizens of Asgard may walk—if given permission. You are my pet and you...will crawl.”

She lowered herself to all fours and crawled to him as he lounged. Suddenly, he pulled her across his lap. The chain jangled and she kicked a little, trying to find her balance, and still he was quick enough to grab a huge hank of her hair.

She yelped painfully, but settled across his lap. “Please don't beat me!” she cried.

He smiled at her, pulling her even closer across his lap, so that she could feel his crotch. With a sharp pop, he slapped her buttocks. “Now—what did you say?”

“Please don't beat me—my m-m-master!” she wailed.

“Better,” he said. Then he began stroking her back gently. She trembled in the most delightful way as his hand ambled across her flesh. In ever widening strokes, he got closer and closer to her buttocks. When he did finally brush her ass, she flinched and winced as the grip on her hair got tighter. “Relax, pet. You will be here for a while.”

She began panting. Why had she ever looked at Prince Loki? Why had she let him catch her looking at him, then smiled and blushed and look away? His hand glided over her smoothly and she felt the heat rush into her loins. Blushing a fiery red, she knew his hand would glide over that delicate flesh any moment and be drenched.

Sure enough, his hand did dip between her legs. “What have we here, pet?” he smiled. He gently stroked her, feeling her wriggle and buck beneath his hand. Some other time he would chastise her, and teach her to stay still when he wished it, but for now it was enough to have her wriggling and groaning as he pulled his hand away. “Why you are dripping wet, my dear.”

He pinched her bottom and she squealed again. “You are a naughty girl.” His hand stroked her bottom. “Do you know what I should do with such a naughty girl?”

She shook her head as best she could with his hand in her hair. His fist pushed down between her shoulders, crumpling her grip as she tied to push herself up with her arms. Fat tears fell down her cheeks.

He laughed and smacked her bottom. The mark was instantly red—the exact shape and size of his hand. Spanking her again and again, he loved the feel of her writhing on his lap and brushing her soft side against him again and again. When he was done, her bottom was a lovely pink and still his hand dipped between her thighs again.

“You are a naughty girl,” he said sternly. “But I can help....” He pushed her off his lap but held her hair tightly against his leg so that she ended up with her cheek on his thigh. He traced the damp trails on her cheek as she sobbed softly.

She was humiliated. Her bottom felt like it was on fire and her desire had flooded her belly. Now he held her close to his thigh, gently stroking her face even as his fist locked in her hair painfully. Yet nothing would ease the flames in her blood. And now she could not so much as open her eyes without seeing the clear outline in his breeches.

“First,” he said calmly. “You will learn to please me with that lovely little mouth.” She opened her mouth to protest and he put a finger against her lips. “Don't thank me, pet. Just gently lick and suck and I will tell you what I like best.” He pushed the fingertip against her lips, allowing the flavor of her juices to wet her lips. “Now...there, there, pet. Suck it off.”

She opened her mouth and sucked his sticky fingers. The flavor burst into her mouth and tickled her taste buds. She had not dared do this to herself, had not dared to seem so...dirty. And now Loki was forcing it on her—amazing her with the sweet taste.

“Ahh...you like that my pet,” he smiled. He pulled out his fingers and rubbed her throat smoothly until he felt her swallow. “I'm glad that my pet is so pleased.” He pulled her head up off his thigh and pulled open his breeches.

She gasped as he sprang free. He was so...long he brushed her cheek with his hard cock. And the amazing, erotic scent of his arousal poured out into her face.

“You are pleased, my pet,” he laughed again. One hand gently raised her face and guided her to the tip. Her tongue brushed her dry lips and inadvertently brushed his slit. His legs tightened—the leather of the throne creaking in surprise. “That's good my pet.” He pushed her into a kneeling position, stretching out her neck and raising her head. “Now we will begin.” His hand trailed down her cheek. “However, be warned. The slightest brush of your teeth, the smallest sign of rebellion and I will show you no mercy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, m-my master.”

“Begin,” he ordered.

She opened her mouth, surprised at the soft skin brushing her lips. Instantly, she sucked in a breath, her lips clasping him. He grunted in surprise and she dared to look at him. His eyes were almost closed—the emerald a thin line around wide, dark pupils. His mouth was pursed thin and every muscle seemed to be straining.

Then she smiled, sucking in harder and he rewarded her by bucking slightly. The hand cupped her cheek gently—the thumb stroking her face almost absently. The other maids were quick to speak of such things—falling in and out of love with the guards or pages. A few found love and were faithful, but many were not and they spoke openly of how to entice a man, how to tease him and make his eyes follow, and how to please him. Her eyes glittered darkly and her hand strayed up his tense thigh, her stubby nails just enough to feel beneath the leather breeches.

He sucked in a breath and began moving her head up and down his shaft. She suckled like a babe and stroked the delicate balls beneath his manhood. With a swift buck, she released his cock and sucked one of the twin globes into her mouth with a moan. The penis slapped her face—almost like a petulant child wanting attention as she laved her tongue up and down all over his crotch.

“Bitch,” he bit out. “You seek to unman me.” He pulled her head back, slapped her lightly and then guided her lips over to where they stretched around his prick again. Again he prodded her neck so that she would be ready to take all of him and to drink his cum. She gagged the first time that he pushed her all the way down, but quickly she adjusted. Once or twice as he guided her down, he thought he felt the lump going down her throat and stretching her very throat to receive him.

Gritting his teeth, he set the pace again, slow and sure. She groaned and one hand reached down between her legs. He yanked her hair and reached for her arm to pull it behind her back. “Shterege!” he barked hoarsely and her arms were magically bound behind her back. He smiled at her as she tried to turn to see what had happened.

Slowly he sat back down and stroked her head. “Now look what you've done,” he chided. “You'll have to work harder for my pleasure and less for your own.”

Mara stared at the slightly...deflated manhood mere inches from her mouth. She looked up at him and whined, wriggling her bottom. Loki only laughed and let the strap drape over her shoulder and down her back. She pouted and winced as his hand again wrapped in her hair and guided her face down.

Loki laughed again as her tongue and mouth kissed his flesh, sucking and licking. In no time, he was ready for her mouth again and she fastened on quickly. Pleasure coursed through his veins as her lips stroked him from tip to base. “Ahh, my pet—you must get ready to receive my seed,” he gasped.

Mara's eyes went wide and she tried to stop, but his fist would not let her slow, much less stop. He even slid down into even more of a slouch so that she was pressed harder against him. She keened her protest, feeling every muscle tense and the grip tighten even more. Then, her eyes closed and she panted, almost unable to breathe at the relentless pace he set down her throat. Tears flowed freely and she felt the salty liquid fill her mouth and flood her throat.

Loki seemed to be on the verge of saying something—his teeth were gritting and his jaw set and every muscle tensed. Even the hand on the edge of the throne and the hand in her hair tensed tightly as the fire in his blood burst into shattering release. He rolled his head back, almost panting as Mara struggled to swallow all of his cum. His thighs clamped around her head, pinning her there as the final drops pumped into her mouth.

Mara dizzily drank everything. Her head felt like it was in a vise grip between his thighs and her blood was boiling. She vaguely remembered hearing that if you swallowed a man's seed, it would not begat a child, but would please him greatly. Hopefully Loki's pleasure was enough that she would soon be free. Then she would hie herself off to her tiny chamber and take her own pleasure.

But it was not to be. Loki's grip loosened and she felt him grow soft, but instead of simply pushing her away, he held her shoulder and stroked her hair. Without even looking at her, he whispered, “Now clean me up.”

Mara sighed and licked him again. He seemed to be almost ticklish now—flinching unless she was barely touching him. She wriggled her fingers and twisted her hands—not so much that she expected to get free, but rather to help restore some feeling in them. At last he seemed to be clean of sweat and cum and she smiled to herself that she had done a good job.

But without warning he pulled her up on his lap as though she were yet a youngling. Her head lay on his shoulder, her bound arms pressing her chest upwards to his face and her hips perched on his thighs. He chuckled and ordered, “Spread your thighs, now.”

She watched with wide eyes as his hand dipped between her legs. Somehow she blushed again and clamped her legs shut. Instantly, she felt his hand in her hair again and she moaned. Reluctantly, she opened her thighs to his hand and closed her eyes to avoid seeing his fingers dip.

Loki laughed softly and his fingers were drenched. She bucked as he brushed closer, but did not move otherwise. One finger traced her slit and pushed inside ever so lightly. She yelped at the invasion, but bucked to try to encourage him to go deeper. “Are you ready for me?” She nodded mutely, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Is your blood boiling, pet? The feeling of fire in your veins?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she sobbed softly. Her legs went limp, splayed open. Then those magical fingers trailed wetly up and began gently kneading her breasts. She didn't care so long as the blaze inside was abated—soon. It felt like it would go on forever—that it had gone on forever—and all she could do was wait to have him finally bring her release. But he wasn't bringing her release. He avoided touching her cunt or ass or nipples and stroked her just enough to fan the flames. “Oh my god—PLEASE!” she begged, wriggling her hips.

Loki laughed low in his throat and it came out as a growl. “There's a good girl,” he breathed against her hair. Without warning, his finger plunged inside her. She howled wordlessly and bucked against his hand, driving him deeper. He held on to her tightly as she tried to ride his finger to her own completion. Then he pulled out.

She wailed in agony as he rose with her in his arms. Smiling devilishly, he dumped her into the seat of the throne so that her back was to the room—and him. She collapsed with a grunt into the soft leather and he pushed one fist into the small of her back. Mara wriggled and pushed against his hand, wordlessly trying to find the release that was so close—something to rub or brush or anything to end this inferno of lust. Two fingers slid into her, then three and she gasped and began thrusting madly as at last she found the fulfillment she sought.

Then just as suddenly as she had found what she needed, those fingers pulled away again and she felt both his palms slap her ass. She tried to rise, to escape, but his palms pummeled her from both sides at once and at last all she could do is crouch and sob into the back of the throne. The pain blended so smoothly with her pleasure that there was no more.

There was a brief pause in the onslaught and Mara took a deep breath. Her thighs were sticky with the juices of her arousal. And still he stood behind her, gently positioning her once again. She moved as his touch directed, unable to form a coherent thought as to what she should do otherwise.

Then he slid into her—so full and right and heavy and still stretching her limits. His hands slid over her hips and flanks to wander to her breasts and down again to the sweet bud of her passion as he began slowly sliding back and forth. It was so...right and true, yet not enough to help her inflamed state. She bucked backward as hard as she could and was rewarded with his groaning grunt. Then he sped up—powerfully. He was in absolute control of her—twisting her to his desire and all she could do was ride out the pleasure.

“Oh my god,” she repeated, feeling the tight tremors begin to shake.

“Again,” he hissed. “Say that...again.”

“My god!” Mara gasped. “My lord! My king--”

Loki growled and slammed one more time into her. The passion burst in her as well and she shook with her release, the muscles clenching around him in slick, tight heat.

Mara shuddered, feeling the drips start down her thigh. Her arms had been released at some point—she failed to recall when—and she whined as he withdrew. He yawned and conjured a rag to clean himself with and, without seeming to notice her, dressed.

She gaped at him and gingerly crawled to her own clothes. The clothes were simple to put on under his emerald gaze and he smiled as she slid them on. She tried to smile back—her hair mussed and her thighs hot and sticky and her bottom sore.

“You have done well,” he said grandly, letting his voice echo in the vast room and the enchanted chain to fade away. “I believe that we shall meet again soon. In the meantime--” He gestured to the throne. Mara looked at the grand throne. There were smears everywhere—spots where sweat or cum had dripped on to the leather, a few stray hairs drifting along an arm. “Clean up the mess.”

**Author's Note:**

> very early smut that I did years ago. Hope that you like it.


End file.
